


The Turning

by reysrose



Series: The One Where Vampirism and College Are Both Terrible [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Delirium, F/M, Fever, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Siring, Vampire Bites, Vampire Transition, Vomiting, find my phone, not an explicit sexual rape, rey being turned, the rape is like, vampire rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22551082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reysrose/pseuds/reysrose
Summary: When a man corners Rey in an alley during a night out and attacks her, Ben must find her and help her.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: The One Where Vampirism and College Are Both Terrible [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622536
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	The Turning

**Author's Note:**

> The non-con is referring specifically to Rey being turned into a vampire. Rey also believes that she's been sexually assaulted and starts to apologize to Ben when he finds her The

The man’s hand is big and rough around her neck, squeezing. She stumbles, pressing a loose fist to his chest and pushing. Why can’t she focus? Her head throbs, her stomach rolling. She’s been drugged, she must have been. Where are her friends? Her bare back scrapes up against concrete, and she shoves an uncoordinated fist into her back pocket, fishing for her phone. 

“Stop that, mouse,” The man holding her against the walls rumbles. He grips her wrist and jerks it to the side, and Rey is too dazed to cry out when it pops and pain sears up her arm. She tries to shove him off her with a weak thrust of her hips and twist of her ribcage and he laughs, tightening his grip on her throat. Her head bounces off something. Why did she drink so much? She moans, but her limbs are too heavy to move, and her head lolls forward against the man’s meaty fist. He pushes her forehead back and her skull thudding echoes in her ears when it hits the wall. She needs her phone. But her wrist is broken. How did she forget her wrist was broken? She moans again, keeps moaning and whimpering even though her throat feels raw and sore. Maybe if she makes enough noise someone will hear her. 

“Quiet, girl. Before I tear out your throat.”

Her head is shoved to the side, the back of her neck scraped raw on the concrete. Blistering pain explodes in the side of her neck and she tries to scream but she can’t, all she can do is gasp and whimper. The feeling starts leeching out of her fingers and feet and face, until she’s just a consciousness floating in the wind. And then she’s falling down, down, her face catching on the lip of a dumpster, her nose breaking and bleeding, until the side of her head strikes the pavement of the alley. Everything goes black.

When she wakes up all she can focus on is pain, the kind that makes it hard to breath and think. She turns her head to the side and vomits without ceremony, groaning as it makes her nose throb. Right. She broke it. She fell, and she broke her nose. She fell. Her neck is burning, hot under the palm she lifts toward it. Her hand comes away smeared with blood. Is she bleeding? Her head hurts. She gags, dragging herself to sitting and immediately tumbling back down onto the alley ground. Her phone. 

The screen burns her eyes, making them burn and sting. Her hands shake, and it’s almost impossible for her to focus on the contact list in front of her face. She whimpers, stabbing at his name with a clumsy finger. She hits call. 

“Hey,” Ben’s voice is sleep gruff and thick, and she knows she woke him up. She tries to say something but all that comes out is a sound like a dying animal. 

“Baby? Rey, talk to me,” he says, sounding sharper. Feedback from the phone blazes a burning path down her ear. She tries to scream. Why can’t she scream.

“Ben,” she forces out, barely whispering. Her fucking neck hurts.  
“Rey, I need you to tell me where you are.”

“I-I-” 

“Baby, can you turn on find my phone?”

Mutely she does. She can do that. Her phone tumbles out of her hands and cracks on the pavement, her eyelids fluttering. Ben is saying something on her phone, but his voice may as well be coming from underwater for all the good it does. 

“I don’t feel good,” she rasps. Her eyes close. 

She drags herself back to consciousness when she feels hands on her face, big hands. She panics, snapping her teeth at him. 

“Easy, it’s me! Sweetheart, it’s me.” 

“I’m sorry,” she rasps, blinking dark spots out of her vision. Ben’s hands drag over her cheeks and one palms her neck over the place that hurts. She screams, hoarse and hard, the most sound she’s been able to force out since she was attacked. Her head throbs. 

“Shhh.”

“I’m sorry,” she croaks again. He needs to know. He has to know.

“Sorry for what?” 

“He-he-he” she can’t make her mouth move. She whimpers and croaks and then sobs. 

“Don’t apologize. Okay, here we go. That’s it, sweetheart.” 

His skin feels like fire to her oversensitive skin and she opens her mouth to cry but only a faint hiss comes out. Something’s wrong, something beyond pain and the aftereffects of drugs. Ben cups the back of her head and presses it to his shoulder, then she feels something warm and soft fall over her. A blanket. She squeezes her eyes shut. 

“Hold on, sweetheart.”

“Hospital,” she manages to croak. Ben’s heartbeat changes pace. Weird. Why can she hear that? 

“We can’t go to the hospital right now, love,” Ben says into her hair. He stumbles over a pit in the sidewalk and every nerve ending in her body starts to sing in agony. She wants to scream at him, hit him with her fists and ask why the hell he can’t take her to a hospital when she clearly needs one, but she blacks out instead, pressing her nose to Ben’s neck. 

~

“Wake up, Rey.”

That’s Rose. Her head hurts. Her whole body hurts, and she itches like she has a fever, sweat soaked clothes sticking to her body. She writhes, realizing there are sheets tangled around her legs. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Ben rasps. She forces her eyes open and gags and gasps at the force of the agony that sears through her head. Ben cups her cheek. There are two of him. The paint on the wall behind his head swirls and she feels sick.

“Bucket. It’s okay,” Ben murmurs, cupping her forehead. Whatever she’s vomiting, it’s not food and it’s not alcohol, but it burns her throat just the same. It’s red, and thick, and she screams when she sees it because she’s dying, she must be dying.

“Oh, fuck-”

“On her side-”

Rey’s world shakes apart and dissolves, Ben’s hand resting over her heart.

The next time she wakes up, she’s shivering so hard she bites her tongue and cries out from the shock, grimacing at the rasping, hissing sound of it as it echoes from her throat. Someone is combing the sweaty hair from her face as she groans, and Rey realizes she’s in Child’s Pose, forehead pressed to the cold bottom of the bathtub. There’s water running down her neck and soaking her cheeks alongside her tears.

“What’s happening to me,” she moans, rocking forward to dig her nails into the fiberglass wall of the shower. Someone rubs her back. Ben. Her entire body feels like a live wire as she shakes and whimpers under the cold spray.

“Just breathe through it, sweetheart,” Ben murmurs, “It’s just the transition.” 

“T-Transition?”

The bite on her neck throbs, the man in the alley’s teeth in her soft skin flashing into her mind. Oh. Oh. She screams, shoving Ben away from her and toppling out of the tub hard onto her side. When he climbs out after her she snarls, feeling fangs prick her gums and cut her lips as they descend from her mouth. She snaps at him when he gets too close, reaching blindly for the handle. When she doesn’t find it, she launches herself at him and sinks her teeth into the meat of his chest.

“Rey!”

His blood is hot and spurting into her mouth, flowing down her throat and it’s amazing, blissful and sweet and- 

She tears her mouth from his pec and doubles over, projectile vomiting onto the floor until Ben grabs her and forces her head over the toilet. She’s sobbing, half in shock, half in pain, half convinced he’s going to storm out and never come back.

“Please,” she screams in between heaves, desperate and high pitched, “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” he shushes, lifting her into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He’s not angry, somehow. She bit him, drank his blood, and now she’s covered him in his regurgitated blood, and he’s not angry. She can tell from his heartbeat. 

“The smell,” she mumbles, gagging. She can’t decide if it’s the blood in the toilet and all over both of them, or the blood still oozing out of the bite on his chest, but it’s too much. She spits into the toilet. Ben flushes it, lowering her back under the cold shower.

“Hang tight. I’m gonna clean up the bathroom and both of us.”

Things get fuzzy again, and when she wakes up fully, feeling actually awake, she’s bundled up and laying on her side on the couch. Rose hovers in front of her, one hand pressing a cool cloth to her face. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Awful,” Rey whispers. Rose holds something to her mouth and Rey takes a sip. It’s blood, but it’s been diluted with what Rey thinks is pedialyte. It’s nasty, but it doesn’t immediately make her retch. Rose cups the back of her head. 

“Ben?” Rey asks. Rose nods toward the overstuffed armchair in their living room. Ben is asleep, hunched over, long legs folded up in the seat. Rey grins, opening her mouth for some more of the blood mixture.

“He’s been up since he found you in that alley,” Rose tells her. Rey yawns. 

“How long was that?”

“Almost 72 hours, babe,” Rose tells her. Rey realizes with sickening clarity that she could rip Rose apart now, and bites down on her lip. 

~

“So,” Rey says, “This is why you didn’t take me to the hospital.”

Ben nods, looking up from where he’s changing the bandages over her bite. It’ll scar, something that makes Rey’s skin crawl to think about.

“They would have put you in that fucking prison of a vamp unit. I couldn’t let them do that.” 

Rey sighs, pushing a hand through her hair shakily. She’s still really weak, the transition taking a lot out of her. She’s not eating nearly enough either, according to Ben’s vampire friends. She’ll get there, Phasma had told her the other day, when Rey had been crying into 16 ounces of O negative with the effort to finish it. Ben tapes down the last corner of the bandage. 

“I’m hungry,” Rey tells him, “can you make me something to eat?”

Ben’s relieved smile makes her entire cold body flush with human warmth.


End file.
